Harmony
by thoroughlymodernJulie
Summary: A series of vignettes highlighting the little moments Maria and Georg steal for themselves.
1. Wanton

Rated for sexual content -- please read responsibly and enjoy this rather gratuitous (on my part, anyways) series of little moments. :) Reviews would be nice, simply for further inspiration.

_Part One: Wanton_

* * *

Maria woke with a start, the unpleasant jerk to her lower navel sending her heart rate through the roof and causing her to breathe heavily. She had always hated awakening to the sensation that she was falling out of bed, and groggily staring over her shoulder, she saw why that was. Marta and Gretl had crammed themselves between their parents during last night's thunderstorm, and it was then that Maria realized how cold she was. She was used to being spooned up against Georg all night, and here she was teetering on the edge of her own bed. Grimacing, she sat up and pulled her robe around her, intending to heat up water for some tea in order to remedy her chilled state.

She paused when she heard her husband move; upon turning around, she saw him tying the sash of his own robe. Walking around to the front of the bed, he put his finger to his lips and beckoned her to follow him. She did so, closing their bedroom door softly behind her as not to wake her daughters.

"I'm chilled, Georg," she whispered. "I wanted to make some tea."

"It's only a few hours past midnight," he responded softly, taking one of her icy hands in his own. "Let's go to your old room."

"M—my old room?" Maria stuttered, almost astonished, and still half groggy. At the moment, she was more keen on scalding the roof of her mouth with a spicy tea, and not so much following her husband all over the house.

Her husband flashed her a silent smile, but she didn't miss the burn in his ice-blue eyes. She rubbed her eyes quickly, biting her lip.

"Surely… Georg, we can't, the children—"

"Hush, darling, or the children will indeed be our problem." Georg took his wife's hand firmly in his hand and led her towards the smaller, lonely bedroom on the opposite side of the second floor. The journey to Maria's former quarters of occupancy under the employment of her now-husband took a mere moment to reach, it seemed. As soon as that door clicked shut behind them, Maria found herself backed up against the armoire, and she suddenly felt awake; the powerful ache in the pit of her stomach leapt in her body as flames, and her heartbeat was accelerating once more.

"Two weeks, and it could have been less," Georg grunted as he claimed the hollow of her neck.

"How did you know?" Maria asked breathlessly, her still-icy hands fumbling to untie her husband's robe.

"What?" He was removing her nightgown now, kneading her breasts. They were leaking unashamedly, still respondent to stimulation despite the fact that their daughter had been weaned for nearly two months—Maria had found breastfeeding too painful once most of Annaliese's front teeth poked through her constantly swollen gums.

"How long," she returned breathlessly, arching against the chest behind her as her husband began to suckle her nipples. "I was trying to recall. I should hate you for keeping track." Her hands were entangling themselves in her husband's thick hair. Against her leg, she felt her husband's erection building. Biting his shoulder, she let him yank down her panties, the remaining barrier between her and him.

"No self-control," she mumbled, wrapping her legs around him as he lifted her onto him. She took his face in her hands, her own lips crashing on his. Georg moaned into her mouth as he took a firmer grasp on her behind, shifting her weight as she bucked into him, pinned between the armoire and his body. His release came quickly, and moments thereafter, he managed to stagger backwards several steps; they fell onto the bed, their bodies layered in a sheen of sweat, Maria collapsed over Georg and breathing heavily.

"I don't think I ever get used to the shocking thrill," Maria whispered in her husband's ear several silent minutes later, the only sound being their ragged breathing slowing to a more reasonable pace. He was still inside her, and she slowly worked her body upright. There was a twinkle in her eye, and she flashed him a wickedly charming smile, asking, "Cat got your tongue, Captain?" as she again began to thread her hands through his hair.

Georg groaned audibly. "You are the most manipulative woman, my dear Fräulein. One moment you're questioning whether we should be making love, and the next, you've beat me at my own game. It is horribly emasculating." His voice was a soft hum as he traced his hands over her sides, along the curve of her breasts, across her collarbone, and across the expanse of her soft, flat stomach.

Maria purred, "You're lying outright," and bent down to trail kisses along his chest.

She had a point. Georg groaned again, lifting Maria's weight from his chest. She whimpered for the empty feeling, but found a rapid requital as she fell slightly to his side and he rose up on his knees in front of her. Without a second thought, she opened her legs to him, and he gripped her knees, driving into her quickly and entirely. She gasped his name in that voice she accumulated in the throes of lovemaking, a voice mixed with wonder and lust, and a love that couldn't be expressed otherwise. Even when she was singing, she never achieved a sound quite like this—it was a voice Georg knew only he would hear and it sent a surge of masculine pride through him every time he heard it.

"Say something more," he asked as he brushed his fingers between her legs and thrust into her again. "Please."

Maria found herself back in her husband's arms as she emitted with near-desperation, "I love you, I love you!" She ground her hips in rhythm with Georg's, and as he thrust into her once more, causing an orgasm to course through her body, Maria heard thunder break overhead, followed by the heavy sound of rain. Georg's release had come at the end of the first roll of thunder, and a second roll began as they lay entangled together, Georg on top of Maria.

Maria could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she absorbed the aftershocks of her orgasm, only vaguely aware of Georg's weight on top of her. She opened her eyes and craned her head to look at her husband, whose eyes were closed. She traced his face with a finger, kissing him on the nose before asking him to let her up.

The thunder was rumbling overhead at a steady rhythm now, rain pounding soothingly on the roof. Maria found it to be highly relaxing combination of sounds as she drew water for a hot bath. Running water, rolling thunder, pounding rain… and the touch of her husband's hands on her shoulders as he leaned down to pepper the back of her neck with kisses. Her insides positively melted for the serendipity of this moment; it was in no way rushed and heated, but instead cadenced and blissful. Ducking from Georg's grasp, Maria lifted her slender legs over the edge of the bathtub and sank into it, making her intentions all the more clear as she reached up and took her husband's chin in her hands and kissed him deeply, biting gently on his lower lip.

A crack of lightning halted their actions, and they simply gazed into each other's eyes. Maria's eyes followed Georg as he straightened up and stepped into the tub, lowering himself onto her. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub and she hit her head on its marble edge as he thrust himself into her and they simply let themselves be, holding each other in the midst of the storm.

Only when the thunder clapped, this time further into the distance, did Georg pick up a steady rhythm again, enjoying the sounds of the water sloshing around them, the rain pummeling the roof, the storm waging in the skies, and Maria's low, pleasure-filled groans.

Her arms emerged from the bath water to grasp his torso, pulling him down lower; in that moment, staring into the tremendously beautiful eyes of the woman he loved, Georg knew that whatever had happened in his past and hers, the love they shared right now would make it bearable to face the future in front of them, no matter what happened.

Maria saw the moody darkness cross her husband's face, and she murmured, "Oh, love, I'm here. I'm here." Her tone was warm, comforting, and reassuring as she traced his jaw.

Georg, filled with an overwhelming desire to express the magnitude of what he felt, took his wife's chin in his hand and kissed her deeply and deeper, working his body against hers so that he could feel the eventual tremors of her physical desire for an outlet. When he felt her heart literally pounding into his chest, he pulled himself from the depths of her body, instead placing his fingers between her legs, brushing her gently, teasingly.

He took a great pleasure in watching her face as he touched her in this way; it had taken her time to become accustomed to it, but the act itself had been introduced almost immediately into their marriage some two years prior. Where once, she had been uncertain and calculating of this more unconventional pleasure, she now thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. Georg smirked at this thought, for it coincided with the orgasm they both knew was coming.

Maria cried his name and arched her spine, clawing at her husband's back, and the second it was over, they both were aware of the dead silence around them. "The storm must have passed," Maria concluded, chest still heaving.

Indeed, it had.

The smell of wet earth was rich and sharp, and Georg relished the scent coming from the window Maria had opened before crawling into bed next to him again. She dozed lightly, her head resting on his chest, her wet hair transferring beads and streaks of water onto Georg's own skin. The thoughts swirling in Georg's mind at this moment were simple, but every one of them were entangled into a mass, as they always seemed to be after lovemaking, and it frustrated him. Maria had learned quickly not to take offense by his disposition, and rather took the time allotted to come back into her own frame of mind, and also to talk with her husband.

"How are we going to explain this to Frau Schmidt?" Maria eventually murmured, breaking the silence. She had to admit they had done some interesting things in the past few years, but they had never ventured into another bed besides their own to pursue marital acts.

"Are there still clean sheets in the armoire?"

"I think so, yes."

Georg grunted at this, his non-verbal response quite clear.

Maria sat up and glanced at the clock, yawning. It was four thirty, and she wouldn't have minded going back to sleep. She was about to bend down and retrieve her nightgown, but Georg's arm suddenly snaked around her waste and pulled her back to lie on him. He threaded his fingers through her wet hair, and Maria sighed contentedly, waiting for him to say something.

"Tell me a fantasy, Maria."

Craning her neck, Maria looked up as best she could. "A fantasy of what nature, Captain?"

"A fantasy that does not involve politics, finances, servants, eight loud children, Max Dettweiler, or anything else to be considered a nuisance," Georg answered.

"I'm afraid that leaves only us," Maria pondered.

"Precisely."

Maria smiled at her husband's suggested items involved in the process of elimination; she had to admit she enjoyed it. "Well, it may sound silly, but…" she hesitated, wondering if she really wanted to reveal such a devious thought.

"Yes?" Georg's curiosity was more than piqued.

"I wouldn't mind making love on one of your ships," Maria rushed, feeling her cheeks begin to burn.

Georg chuckled at her ability to imagine, responding, "Indeed, there are certain advantages to lovemaking when the sea is just right and the sea captain feels the need for the warm, tender flesh of his beloved."

Maria whimpered as he kneeled over her, massaging her breasts again.

"You love this," he whispered, leaning into her ear.

"Please, Georg, don't. The doctor says I'll never stop lactating if you won't stop touching," she groaned, knowing she was falling on her own sword.

"Tell me what else you like," he muttered in a low tone.

Maria searched her husband's eyes, knowing this would be her undoing. "You know what I like," she quipped helplessly. "I know you were thinking about everything just now."

"I love hearing it from you all the same." He was stroking the insides of her thighs now, watching for her reactions.

The truth was, Maria loved it whenever Georg touched her body, and wherever. But she knew the game he was playing with her. He wouldn't let her cover their tracks until he'd pried out of her mouth what he wanted to hear.

"I…" she faltered, trying to combat the blushes assaulting her cheeks. It was one thing to do, and quite another thing to say. "I like it when you… when you kiss the hollow of my neck, my breasts, the insides of my thighs…"

"Is that all?" Georg taunted, looking up as he finished trailing light kisses along Maria's firm legs, causing them to quiver and twitch at his touch. He worked his way up her body to her neck, where he suckled the soft, warm flesh.

"No, it isn't," she gasped in a whisper. "I love when you make me climax by just touching me."

"Anything else?"

Maria was sure she couldn't blush a deeper shade of scarlet. "When you're inside me, and you, well.,." she stumbled, "I can feel…"

"And you love that? Maria?"

Closing her eyes, she nodded, wishing she were a child able to crawl into a hole to hide. "I feel so close to you. And there's one more thing. I love it when you say my name."

"Maria."

Taking a breath, she opened her eyes, determined to meet her husband's gaze. "Yes."

Georg reached out to stroke her face, and then took her once more, stating firmly, "I love you," as she propelled herself into his embrace.

She simply let herself marvel at the closeness they shared, moving within each other as one soul, as partners, as husband and wife.


	2. Mischievous

Just a warning -- this has a slightly scandalous implication, and if you can't take certain religious things in good humor, I don't suggest reading this. Other than that, enjoy! :) Reviews would be lovely if you can spare a moment.

_Part Two: Mischievous_

* * *

Georg glanced over at his wife; she had been relatively silent over their drive through Innsbruck, and through the entire of Tyrol, for that matter. They had circled through the entire Austrian state that day, enjoying together the sights and sounds—or so he presumed. At first, Maria had been mildly excited, but the closer they came toward Innsbruck, the quieter she became. He wasn't quite sure if she was enjoying the trip internally, or if perhaps she was simply pondering things that remained quite a mystery to him.

Just as they passed a small inn, Maria came to life, pointing at it. "Park there," she requested. "I want to take a walk; my legs are cramped."

"Your wish is my command," Georg joked as he pulled into the parking lot of the inn. "Shall I reserve a room?"

Maria's brows knit together in concentration. Finally, she answered, "No. There are always vacancies here. Let's wait and see how late we return. I want to show you the village I lived in until my parents died."

Georg was rather surprised at this; while his wife had told him long ago that her roots began in a small Tyrolean village, she had always explained that she didn't remember much before the age of five, and had gone to live with her wealthy aunt during the school year in Vienna. She spent her summers in the Alps of Salzburg and working on an uncle's farm.

"While I was grateful for the care and education I received at my aunt Madeline's expense, I always felt like Salzburg was where I really wanted to be," she'd explained. "It felt like home, and yet it wasn't home. It made me feel safe. I was away from memories, but close to something I have always been familiar with."

That simple explanation had opened the floodgates to Maria's whole being, and Georg knew he would be a fool to deny that it made him love her all the more. She was clever, smart, beautiful, loving; and yet, she only ever asked for the simple things in life, and with no case of pretentiousness to her name.

"I felt oddly out of place in the schools my aunt chose for me, and for years I was the rebel child—I only began to behave myself in my teen years, having realized it would cause everyone—though the boys especially—to leave me alone if I closed myself in. To this day, I still find myself wholly comfortable with children only."

"And what of me?" Georg had teased her.

"Let's just say that you are very much an exception, as I seem to have borne you two more children," she had countered, laughing.

It was Maria that shook Georg from his thoughts with a call for him to follow her. She was already headed behind the inn, treading on an old dirt path that appeared to lead towards the mountain range. He hurried to catch up with her, snatching one of her hands in his grasp as they walked. Already, her countenance had changed drastically: she began whistling a quarter mile down the path, her eyes were shining, and she had a smile on her face. "A friend and I used to race every day down this path to and from school," she said. "His name was Ralph. I wonder if he still lives here."

"It's a small village," Georg reasoned. "I wouldn't be surprised if he does."

Some twenty minutes later, they reached the little village, which rested at the base of the mountains. "You _ran_ this whole way?" Georg questioned.

Maria turned around, pointing out the forks in the path a slight ways behind them now. "His house led off to the left, and mine to the right. We met there every day in the mornings and said goodbye in the afternoons."

"So you're accustomed to long-distance running?"

Maria laughed, asking, "Was there ever a doubt?"

"No," Georg answered, taking the opportunity to kiss his wife's nose.

"There isn't much to see," Maria admitted as she looked around at the buildings of necessity. She laughed, pointing out a doctor's office next to the mercantile. "That wasn't there when I was a child."

Georg wandered over towards the blacksmith, musing, "I should get the horses re-shod this weekend." He turned to his wife. "Was there anything in particular you were hoping to do while we're here?"

"I thought since there are still a few hours of daylight left, we could go for a hike in the mountains," Maria answered, entirely without hesitation. "We could go on horseback, if you like."

Feeling somewhat skeptical, Georg asked, "And how long exactly has it been since you've scaled these mountains?"

"Only nineteen years or so," Maria wheedled.

"Only?"

"And when, in nearly five years of marriage, have I gotten us lost in a mountain range?" There was a wicked sparkle in her eye as she pointed this out.

"Never," Georg sighed. A glance up at the sky confirmed that the sun would hold off any impending rain. "We'll go on foot."

Maria was laughing at the sight of her husband sprawled against a tree, glaring at her. Not feeling the least bit chastised, she teased, "We should have come on horseback after all, Captain. It seems to me that you are exhausted."

"How much further were you intending to take me, Fräulein?" huffed Georg.

"That depends," Maria trailed, kneeling between his legs and grasping his face in her hands as she kissed him. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had a chance quite like this. It was in the moment that she meshed her body closer to his that the thunder crashed above them and rain came pouring down in sheets. She made a move to scramble to her feet, but Georg's hands snatched at her waist and held her body close against his; Maria's desire to avoid the rain dissolved the moment his lips met hers again.

Georg ran his hands along Maria's wet sides, appreciating and loathing the fabric that molded to her skin all at once, and slipped his fingers under her waterlogged skirt, taking the opportunity to run his fingers along the soft, dry flesh of her inner thighs. The trail his fingers left on her skin raised gooseflesh, quickly countered by a flush of heat as his fingers teased closer toward the apex of her legs.

Maria broke the passionate tango their tongues were engaged in to remove Georg's belt, causing him to relinquish his teasing and lower her panties to her knees; getting to his own knees, Georg allowed Maria to shove away his inhibiting clothing, and they tumbled to the ground in a heap, him taking her immediately.

Maria was pushing against his shoulders and engaging in another passionate kiss simultaneously, one that teased and played, a kiss she gave and took repeatedly in efforts to assist his balance on the slick, lush grass and the natural rhythm they were creating.

When Georg came, his body relaxed and he allowed Maria to bear the entirety of his weight in the moments he needed to regain his senses. Maria lay silently, threading her fingers through her husband's mat of wet hair, breathing heavily with her eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation of rain pelting onto her skin. There was something clever and luscious in what they had just done; she was hungry for more of it. But the desire that coursed through her veins like electricity in that moment was hungry for something entirely foreign—she wanted to be reckless and daring. Even in all of their creativity, she wanted to do something that didn't match anything they'd ever done before and never would again.

"Maria," Georg's voice finally interrupted, "I think we should head back to the inn."

She groaned, muttering, "But that's entirely boring."

Nevertheless, they straightened themselves accordingly; when Georg made a move towards the direction of the village, his wife pulled him in the opposite direction. "I know a shortcut," she explained.

Georg was entirely confused at her logic, but followed her lead nonetheless. Finally, after nearly a half an hour of searching for—well, Georg wasn't entirely sure what—he shouted to Maria, "Was there somewhere you were hoping to go? We should be going in the other direction!"

"Yes, I know!" Maria responded. "I was hoping we'd find this little shack…"

Georg stopped full in his tracks. "Are you admitting to me," he said with relish, "that we are _lost_?"

"Y—no!" Maria snapped defensively. "Come this way!"

"Oh, but I think we _are_ lost, my love!" He jogged after her, breezing right into a small clearing. Pulling Maria so that they were hip-to-hip, he commented, "That doesn't look like much of a shack to me. We're lost."

There was a gleam in Maria's eye, however, as she pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes and stared at the small church in front of them, blinking furiously. "At least it's somewhere to stay so we won't catch our death of a cold."

"Maria, it's a church."

Rolling her eyes, she picked up several branches and shoved them unceremoniously into her husband's arms. "Would you rather stay here until the storm blows over or walk two hours down the mountain in pouring rain?"

Georg didn't answer.

Inside, the church was dark, and cobwebs suggested years of abandonment, but Georg was pleased to see a potbellied stove in a far corner where they could attempt to light a fire with wet wood. He had to chuckle at the absurdity of the idea, for they had no matches, but he stopped abruptly when Maria's ice-cold hands touched his neck and she turned him around slowly, backing him up against the wall and kissing him.

"Maria, what if someone—"

"No one ever comes here," she muttered breathlessly, unbuttoning his shirt.

"What—wait. You _do_ know where we are!"

"Oh, no, of course not," she said earnestly. "I've gotten lost up here… at one point."

"You little devil," Georg accused, suckling at his wife's lips. "I suppose you've got a bundle of matches hidden away in your skirts?"

"Find them yourself," Maria dared, unbuckling her husband's belt.

Georg groaned at the unmistakable feeling of Maria's hands removing his clothing from the torso down and then proceeding to aid his arousal. Her movements were bold, they were controlling, and they were final. It was all too clear she wouldn't leave this abandoned building until she had things her way.

"Sit," she commanded, turning Georg so that he could back onto a bench. He did as she asked, watching her silently as she reached behind and pulled the corset of her dirndl loose, lifting it over her head and tossing it to the floor. Next was her skirt and extra petticoat, which she tossed at him. "They may not be where you'd expect," she offered by way of aid.

Georg bit his lip; the matches certainly weren't in her skirts. Hell, he didn't even know if she really had any. But he didn't care. The blood was already coursing through his veins as he watched her undress in a way that promised he would be drenched in sweat within seconds of her skin touching his again.

With only her muslin shirt, brassiere, and panties clinging to her wet skin now, Maria sauntered towards Georg, coming to a stop directly in front of him. Fixing a calculating gaze on him, she rolled the wet fabric of her panties down her hips and kicked them off to the side. Her striptease continued as she unbuttoned her shirt button by button and let the fabric hang lazily from her upper arms; without a word, she unhooked her brassiere and straddled her husband skillfully. Her intent gaze still burned into his, but she broke it when she simply hugged him tight, resting her head on his shoulder in an almost moody, dark fashion.

She let Georg push away her shirt and remove her brassiere entirely. She let him respond to her disposition in turn: lovingly but urgently, he fondled and massaged her breasts, trailed kisses from her neck to the cleft between her breasts; he dragged his tongue over her chest, tasting the unique scent that was his wife. She was sweet as vanilla, with the tang of rain and pine on her skin also.

"We should roll around in the rain on a bunch of pine needles more often," he murmured huskily.

"Mmm," Maria responded in agreement, placing her hands on the back of the bench before kissing Georg quickly and bucking into him.

Having anticipated such a move, Georg grasped her hips and aided her movements, placing small kisses over her skin as she ground her lower body entirely against his again and again, gasping for breath in effort to keep her momentum at such a pace. With a final thrust, she climaxed, and subsequently, Georg did also.

With her head resting on his shoulder again, Maria mused, "I can't help but wonder if we've created a situation for ourselves."

Clutching Maria tightly, Georg chuckled faintly. "You're only wondering now?"

"No," Maria answered. "I wonder that every time we make love. Just that small wonder is enough to be sure the magic will always be there."

"You always were a glutton for punishment, Maria."

Laughter hummed in her throat. "You'll find that that there's a little shed directly adjacent to that door in the corner. Blankets, firewood, and a box of matches, as well as a flint stone and other necessities, are on a shelf in there." She lifted her head and met her husband's gaze. "This is an old school house."

Georg stared. "This isn't… we didn't…?"

"Oh, from time to time there was the odd service in here."

"Maria, where are we?"

Glint in her eye, Maria pointed to the door on the left. "Follow that path for five minutes and you'll end up at Ziegler's Inn. Right where we started."

Georg simply stared, lost for words. And then simply kissed her nose.


	3. Reminiscent

Maria was quite sure she'd never been quite so drenched with sweat in all of her life—and certainly had never considered her children's moaning and complaining to be such a nuisance as it was today.

"Mother, Lukas stole my doll and threw her in the attic!" Annaliese screeched, running into the kitchen where Maria was preparing a cold bath for Eleanor. The eight-year-old's cherubic face was damp with perspiration, and tendrils of her long, honey-colored hair clung messily to her skin.

Attempting to curb her throbbing headache, Maria wringed out a rag from the large bowl of ice water sitting on the kitchen table and placed it on the base of her neck. Exasperatedly, she responded, "I'm sorry, Annaliese, but it's too hot to go up there and search for her."

"But I want her now!" the child whined.

At that moment, three more of the children burst into the kitchen from the back door, bickering and yelling about Maria only knew what. Dragging the rag away from her neck, Maria went to turn off the running water in the sink. Praying for some semblance of patience, she picked up a now wailing Eleanor, who had reacted to her siblings' commotion, and insisted loudly, "For heaven's sake, quiet down, all of you!" When they all stopped to stare at their mother, who normally never raised her voice, she finished, "It's much too miserable today to have to listen to the lot of you bickering over trivial things!"

Marta was the first to respond meekly, "I'm sorry, Mother." The others followed suit, clearly chastised.

"Now," Maria said as she placed the baby in the sink and began to sponge her down, "when your father returns, we'll take a picnic lunch to Fuschlsee and spend the rest of our day there. But please, behave yourselves. And," Maria turned, eying her youngest son, "Lukas, you must retrieve Annaliese's doll from wherever it is in the attic. You know better than to behave so rudely."

Scuffing his toe on the floor, eyes downcast, Lukas muttered compliantly, "Yes, Mother."

Shaking her head, Maria turned her attention back to the wailing toddler and spoke to her soothingly as she placed her in the sink of cold water. Startled, the little girl silenced her cries, but resumed them to an ear-splitting capacity when she realized the temperature.

Goodness, would the day ever end? Maria grimaced as she began to gently slosh water over her daughter's flushed body; the child only screamed louder. How Georg kept her occupied, entertained, and happy during cold baths was beyond Maria's skill, apparently. But, she realized, the child was probably reacting to everyone's discomfort and flaring tempers more than anything else. Taking a deep breath, Maria did her best to block out the pulsating headache and began to sing a lullaby; gradually, the child calmed.

Maria grinned when Eleanor finally squealed with pleasure and offered her mother a pearly smile. "_Liebe dich, Schatzi_, (1)" Maria murmured.

"Sing more, _Mutti_, (2)" the three-year-old begged. "_Bitte_," she added as an afterthought.

Her mother laughed. "I will, later, darling, alright? Right now, we have things to do. Would you like to help me make some sandwiches for our picnic later?"

As Maria lifted the little girl from the sink, she nodded yes, bobbing her head vigorously. "_Ja, Mutti_!"

"That's settled, then," Maria nodded, pulling a clean frock over her daughter's head.

* * *

"This sandwich is quite an interesting specimen," Georg commented, grinning cheekily at his wife, who was peeling an orange.

"Be nice," Maria hushed him, eying Eleanor, who was digging a hole in the sand several feet away. "It took me quite a while to calm her, and she's quite proud of her handiwork. She made it just for you."

"That I can see," assured Georg, as he polished it off good-naturedly and leaned back against the tree the picnic was laid out under. "I haven't been here in so long," he mused. "Or Mondsee, for that matter. We should make it a point to visit there before the summer's over."

"Not to douse you with cold water, Georg," Maria reminded him, "but we have engagements for the rest of the summer that cannot be ignored."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Georg grinned.

Maria looked at her husband carefully, unsure of whether to take caution by his words. There was a gleam in his eye that she was all too familiar with, one that always led right to some sort of mischief between the two of them. Unable to help herself, she giggled, declaring, "You are entirely incorrigible!"

"Thank you, darling—I am told by a certain wife of mine that it can be quite endearing."

"Indeed, it can," Maria consented as she got to her feet and ran to tickle her youngest child, sweeping her up in her arms. Georg watched the exchange with a surge of pride welling in him. If anyone had told him that he would remarry and that Maria would bear him three more children, he would have scoffed it. But with the picture in front of him—Marta and Gretl patiently teaching Lukas how to swim a backstroke; Annaliese scouting for tiny sea creatures; and Maria now in the water holding Eleanor's hands above her head as the little girl happily squealed, planted on her bottom in the cool water as waves sloshed up to her chin—he knew that somehow, fate had chosen to play the cards in his favour. There was something so savory about it all, these last eleven years.

He found himself unashamedly admiring his wife's figure before long—her slender body was clad in a modest bathing suit of blue hues, and around her waist, she had tied a sheer pareo, which was whipping around her legs in the breeze. She was rather uncomfortable showing so much leg in a public place, and always had been. "My legs are for your eyes only," she'd reasoned one day years ago when he asked her the source of her discomfort. "I don't like it when other people are scrutinizing me. The women always have something to say, and the men want to see more."

So, she knew she was attractive. Georg smirked happily at the thought. Surely she must know, considering everything he felt compelled to do to her—and did do to her—in their time alone together. How lovely it would be to be on a Pacific island alone with her, he mused. But then again, the south of France was just as sufficient, and much closer to home. Several years prior, they'd discovered that Maria didn't travel well by water and wasn't eager to try air travel any time soon. Nonetheless, their time aboard that ship had certainly had its high moments…

"_Vati_!" cried Lukas, interrupting his father's train of thought. "Look at me!"

Sitting up, Georg applauded as he watched his son swim a deft backstroke. "Well done, Lukas, well done!" When had he grown from a tiny, helpless baby to a little boy with brown hair and Maria's tilted nose who had completed his first year of grammar school?

Georg looked over to Annaliese, who was inspecting something she'd found in the clear water. In only a few short years, she would be on the brink of womanhood. There was an ache in his chest at the thought; he and Maria had been uncertain of what to expect when they discovered that the parenting would begin all over again for him, and for her, start at the beginning. It had been somewhat alarming, but he fell into it easily once more, he discovered, and Maria learned quickly, finding joy in it she hadn't thought possible.

It was worth starting over again, he knew. He had his first seven children as a reminder of Agathe, and the last three with Maria were equally as precious. The early fears melted away into anticipation with time, and now, he realized, with a glance at little Eleanor, that time enjoyed eluding him, playing tricks with him. Liesl and Friedrich had their own families now; Louisa was engaged. Kurt and Brigitta were studying their respective interests at University. Marta and Gretl were preparing for University, as well. Georg almost feared the day his youngest three would do the exact same.

"A penny for your thoughts?" came the voice of his wife as she sat down beside him to watch Gretl take Eleanor into the deeper water with Lukas and Marta.

Wrapping an arm around Maria and kissing her on the top of her sun-kissed head, he murmured, "Time slips by so fast. Look at Anna. Look at Lukas and Ellie. It seems only yesterday those two could barely tie their shoes," he nodded toward Marta and Gretl. "And the others…studying and otherwise giving us grandchildren!"

Resting her head against Georg's chest, Maria smiled. "It's frighteningly beautiful."

"As are you," Georg said. "I can scarcely fathom that our eleventh anniversary is approaching. Me, I show my age more everyday, but you—you, you're as beautiful and youthful as the day I met you."

Maria made a sound of disbelief, to which he conceded, "Alright, perhaps you do have some more laugh lines creasing your lovely face, lines around your eyes. But I find them rather attractive. There's something about your fresh-faced beauty that is only enhanced by age."

"Oh, don't forget the aches and pains that come with life and raising a houseful of children and pleasing a very demanding husband," Maria added. "It's positively exhausting!"

"Me, demanding?" Georg exclaimed. "What rubbish!"

"It isn't and you know it," Maria said smartly, placing a kiss on his chin.

"You wouldn't think of denying me."

"Perhaps." Maria craned her neck to look at her husband's stunned face. She laughed heartily, exclaiming, "Oh, you are such a man!"

"Maybe so," Georg huffed, "but can you blame me? You're utterly delectable, Maria, and all mine."

"You might want to rethink that," Maria responded, as all five children came running toward them and promptly tackled their parents.

* * *

"It's so beautiful in the moonlight."

"Yes," Georg agreed. "This lake is very aptly named."

He and Maria were sitting along the embankment of Mondsee, shrouded in the darkness of a small cove of trees, with everything around them given a silver lining as a result of the moonbeams. It had been decided at the last minute to find lodgings to stay in for the night and enjoy one more day in the surrounding areas before making the two-hour trip back to Aigen.

"We should stop in Salzburg and pick up a few things tomorrow," Maria noted. "And I'm sure the children will enjoy exploring the toy shops."

"Yes… we'll do that," Georg agreed. "Maria…"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever been skinny-dipping?"

Maria looked at her husband blankly for a moment before fingering the collar of his shirt. "Swimming, I have done. Swimming in the nude, however… I'm afraid I have never tried it." She grinned devilishly.

"Is it something you would consider doing?" Georg asked, running a thumb along his wife's neck before kissing her ardently.

When she needed air, Maria gasped quietly, "If I were alone with the one man I trust, I might indeed consider it."

"Am I that man?"

"Are we alone?" Maria stared hard into her husband's eyes, gaze blazing.

Georg only nodded, lifting the sundress Maria wore over her head. She stood, kicking away her underthings, and dove into the deep pocket of water several feet away from where they were sitting. Her husband followed suit, stripping down quickly and leaving their clothing in a heap as he joined her.

She did a few breast strokes before submerging under water completely. In the dark, Georg wasn't quite sure which way she'd gone, but moments later, he felt a jerk around his waist that came from behind and he knew. She surfaced, laughing and brushing her hair out of her eyes. "It is quite an experience," she said, eyes twinkling.

Trying to catch his breath, Georg grimaced. "So I see."

Circling around, Maria stopped in front of him. "It's quite a lovely feeling, having the water flow uninhibited across my skin. We could do this more often." Slowly, she pushed him back along the embankment, where quite a perfect slab of stone lay submerged at the perfect height to sit upon and still remain properly covered.

"Do you really want to scare the fish, Maria?" Georg asked, pulling her body against his.

"I think the fish will forgive us just this once," she responded breathlessly, intent upon building the kiss her husband had started on the grassy banks, both hands encasing her husband's face as she did so, lips crashing on his.

Georg wasn't sure where the control of the endeavor had turned from his hands to hers, but knew as soon as he shifted her weight down onto his erection and she gasped into his mouth that she was losing herself in the pandemonium of feeling and yearning already. For all her words earlier, she had an equally feral streak of desire running in her veins, and they both knew it. The thought of it reminded Georg of so many moments, and subsequently they flashed through his mind. Times where she had blushed and stammered, but let him touch and love her regardless; times where she had fallen asleep in his arms after lovemaking; times where she'd cried profusely recovering from orgasm; times where she had actually lost consciousness; and others still, where he'd needed to cover her mouth for the noise she made at the very height of ecstasy. Times where both of them had scaled far beyond normal lovemaking and had become almost animalistic in their actions. Times where he could literally coax her into coming with only a request.

Every time they made love, it was as if they'd been apart from each other for an unbearable amount of time. There was something special about that; Georg had never been so sure of any one thing in his life. And while their opportunities to ravish each other were often few and also thwarted by their children, it made the chances they did have all the sweeter.

"Oh, how I treasure you," Georg grunted before grinding his hips against his wife's, determined to make her cry out and climax through his skilled movements only. Within minutes, her fingers were raking painfully through his hair, her nails dragging across the skin of his back, and he could feel her body convulsing from the inside out.

Maria was quite sure she was losing her mind this minute; she was heaving and her every muscle twitched with anticipation, but when she felt her husband deliberately begin to hold back in his actions, she gave an aggravated cry of frustration and bit down on his right shoulder as hard as she could without drawing blood. She laughed when her revenge caused him to growl in pain, and took the initiative to pick up the slack of his rhythm until he relented and drove her into the throes of orgasm, her acute awareness of their skin against each other and bodies connected quite scattered.

Upon regaining her senses, Maria murmured, "It's been a while since you've called me your treasure. I like it very much."

_"Ja, Schatzi, ich liebe dich so viel."_

_"Ich liebe dich auch, Georg. Mit meinem ganzen Herzen._

* * *

_1. __"Schatzi"_ is a variation of _"Schatz"_ and is usually employed as a term of endearment for children, meaning "sweetie" or "little treasure."  
2. _"__Mutti_" and_ "__Vati_" are German equivalents akin to "mommy" and "daddy." I have not been enlightened of differences in the Austrian dialect concerning the usage of these terms, so I stuck with them.  
3. _"Bitte"_ is used to mean both please and you're welcome.  
4. I chose the name Eleanor for the youngest child on the basis that the first seven children are half British and Liesl's full name is most likely Elisabeth, equally common in English and German. Some variety never hurt.

"_Ja, Schatzi, ich liebe dich so viel_" - "Yes, dear (see note above), I love you so much."  
"_Ich liebe dich auch, Georg. Mit meinem ganzen Herzen._" - "I love you, too, Georg. With all of my heart."


	4. Playful

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Rated for sexual content. Please read responsibly.

* * *

The moment Eleanor's fist hit the side of Georg's head, the headache that had been forming all day grew to an overwhelming proportion. "Papa, look at me!" the six-year-old exclaimed, jerking around in his lap again before jumping down and twirling with a doll in the crook of one arm.

"That's lovely, darling," Georg winced, trying to smile brightly at his daughter.

She faltered when she paused and saw his face; her lip began to tremble as she whimpered, "You don't like it?"

Georg was saved from one of the child's horrific crying fits by Maria, who walked in at that moment with Christian on her hip and a pencil sticking out of the side of her mouth. Removing it, she said to her daughter, "Eleanor, I need to take your measurements now for your new dresses. Marta and Gretl are in my room, and they'll help you undress."

The girl's countenance changed as the Austrian skies could change in an onset of rain; she was darting out of the sitting room and up the stairs before her father could entirely process what had been said. He shook his head, grinning at the patter of her shoes on the marble floor in the main hall. "Sometimes I think that must be what you were like, Maria," he commented, taking his young son from her.

"She's a tomboy alright, but she reminds me very much of Gretl at that age; I think she has far more of you in her." Maria swept her bangs back from her forehead and scrutinized her husband. "Another headache?"

"Quite the affirmative," Georg nodded.

"You're next after Eleanor, unless you would prefer I take care of your measurements tonight," Maria said. "After I finish up, I'm sending the children all out to play. Kurt wants to take them up to the Untersberg to camp out. I'll make some tea and put Christian down for a nap. He's getting as fussy as Eleanor is loud."

Georg only nodded as his wife dictated what the rest of the day would look like, then watched her silently as she left, retracing her footsteps into their bedroom on the second floor. He could hear Eleanor jumping up and down, singing a yodeling song at the top of her lungs.

The day itself was sunny and warm; Maria and Frau Schmidt had opened all the windows and most of the doors throughout the house were ajar, and had been since early that morning. However, it allowed a rather heavy circulation of pollen throughout the house, and it was contributing mightily to the pounding ache in his temple. Eleanor had been making noise like a banshee all day, excited to be measured for new dresses.  
Four-year-old Christian was a quiet boy who knew his alphabet already and enjoyed challenging his older sister to count to one hundred, but without his naps, he grew increasingly irritable throughout the day. In Georg's opinion, he was a spitting image of his wife, down to the intense blue eyes and slope of his nose. He ruffled his son's blond locks lovingly, teasing the curls that Maria could never bear to cut off every time his hair needed trimmed, fearful that they wouldn't grow back.

The boy was happily playing with a little picture book Maria had given him for appeasement. Georg found it interesting, really. After Gretl had outgrown such little pleasures, they had no sooner been packed up and put in the attic than Maria had told him she was expecting Annaliese. It was a phase of his life he'd considered over upon Agathe's death, but by no means objected to with Maria. He supposed he'd always assumed that whatever happened would happen, and he'd just take it in stride. It had been quite a serious topic of conversation between the two of them some fifteen years prior. He remembered it vividly:

_Maria was fidgeting nervously, twisting the ring on her finger around and around. He'd been enjoying a glass of white wine, watching her silently and contemplating the busyness of the Parisian streets below them. "Is anything wrong, love?" he'd asked._

_She'd blushed rather profusely, muttering, "It's just… I'm uncomfortable."_

_Georg nodded without response, recalling her refusal to make love that morning for the arrival of her menstrual period. Placing the glass on the table between them, he took her hands in his and held them firmly. It had been easy to forget in the first few weeks of their honeymoon that their frequent bouts of lovemaking would sooner or later be interrupted. Furthermore, it had struck him as paramount that they hadn't even discussed the possibility of adding more children to the family. Georg wasn't even sure if Maria wanted such a thing, and he'd spent the day being moody as she was nervous, reprimanding himself for not thinking of the issue sooner._

_He sighed, knowing it was best to approach the subject now than to delay it until Maria actually __was pregnant; to do that would be plain ignorant._

_"Maria," he began, "I apologize for not asking before, but I need to know: would you raise any objections to eventually expanding our family?"_

_Maria was silent for a good five minutes, so silent that Georg wondered whether she'd actually heard him. Just as he was opening his mouth to get her attention, she ventured her answer: "I don't know, Georg. I never really have known. Here we have seven children between us that range from almost-grown to just entering school. It almost seems… selfish to want another."_

_Georg understood her entirely from that vantage, but she wasn't finished._

_"I suppose," she mused, "that my answer would be largely based on yours. It takes two to create a child, after all." She smiled softly, murmuring, "I want what you want."_

_"Then are we agreed to let whatever happens happen?"_

_Maria had nodded. "Let's not go out of our way to encourage or prevent anything. It seems fair enough to me."_

Yes, life certainly had a funny way of being interesting. Seven of their children were grown, and in the time that he and Maria had been married, four more had been added to the family. And still their agreement remained: let nature run its course and focus on their children, each other, and their lives most acutely. He thought it was a very satisfactory arrangement. They had a fight about something ridiculous on a weekly basis; Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Brigitta, and Kurt were all married with children; Marta was wrapping up her studies at a university, Gretl was home for the summer after a year of study in Italy, and the rest of his children were well on their way to becoming fine, young adults.

Georg was shaken from his thoughts when he heard a sharp noise: Maria had clapped her hands loudly to get his attention.

"What in the world were you thinking about?" she laughed, taking Christian from him, who was fast asleep.

"You with no clothes on," Georg teased.

Maria hushed him, covering her son's ears as she carried him off to the nursery.

Georg followed her, taking a detour into the old nursery. Of all the bedrooms, this one had been changed and debated over the most in terms of decorating and paint. Maria, on one of her temperamental days, had decided that she found the pastel yellow on the walls to be boring and very generic. Georg had been inclined to just agree with her on that particular day of her pregnancy, but it became clear quite quickly that she was looking to pick a fight with him. She didn't want white, blue, pink, or yellow. She wanted green, and she didn't want someone being hired out to do the job. She wanted to do it with the children and make it a group project. She also knew that Georg would object to the idea immediately. The walls were a light, gentle green, and she had pointedly excluded him from the activity.

In the end, Georg had to admit the change was nice, and it suited their little man most perfectly. He wandered over to the bassinet—with no more of their own babies to put to sleep in it, the grandchildren often slept here on long visits. He was glad that it wasn't yet time to put it away, even though he was fairly certain Maria considered her time bearing children to be over. So many memories had been forged in this room.

Georg felt Maria come up behind him and place her arm around his waist, and as she did so, she whispered, "Annaliese, Lukas, and Eleanor were blessings enough to me. To have this one last miracle… I do believe I've done something good." She kissed Georg gently. "Our tea is waiting."

In the kitchen, Georg commented, "If I'm not mistaken, you were telling me you're through with childbearing." There was a twinkle in his eye.

Maria played along good-naturedly, but with a certain glint in her own eye. "I might have been. A breach, long overdue birth is beyond exhausting. I don't think I could handle that again—" Here, she bit her lip—"breach delivery is twice as frightening as a normal one." Taking a sip of tea, she continued, "Then again, I could have been inviting the opportunity."

"I can help with that," Georg said with a completely straight face.

"I don't doubt for a moment that you can," Maria responded likewise. "How many children have we now?"

"I think it's somewhere around eleven, if I'm not mistaken. Shall we take a head count?"

Grin spreading across her face, Maria nodded. "Frau Schmidt is minding three of them." Finishing her tea, she pushed herself away from the big wooden table and all but skipped out the back door.

"Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta, Gretl, Annaliese, Lukas, Eleanor, and Christian."

Georg turned his head to look at Maria, intertwining his fingers with hers. "I thought we were going to actually go and count them all."

Sitting up, Maria brushed grass from the back of her head and stared out toward the horizon. "There will be plenty of other opportunities," she reasoned. "Look at the lovely afternoon we've just had together—and to think I had every intention of starching the curtains."  
Georg chuckled. "How about a boat ride?"

"I can't think of any reason to object," Maria smiled, leaning down to kiss her husband. "No one's expecting us for dinner, and Max is safely stowed away in Vienna."

"How terribly convenient," Georg murmured, pulling her flush against his body.

"Yes, it rather is, isn't it?" Maria kissed him again, sucking gently on his lips. "Oh, how I love you, Georg," she whispered, allowing him the freedom to roll over and kneel over her. She reached up and ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair, further tousling it, and let him unbutton her blouse.

Georg buried his head in his wife's bosom, brushing his lips over her soft skin, causing her to shudder in reaction to his breath trailing over her skin. He contemplated removing her brassiere, but Maria sat up and did it quickly for him, placing his hands on her breasts, her gaze holding his with a burning intensity. They wouldn't make love here, he knew, but oh, they would most certainly play.

As her husband pushed her back down to the soft grass beneath her, Maria gasped as his hands began to fondle her breasts. Her arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer, her tongue entering his mouth. She loved this game of touch and tease; she was quite certain that Georg would not make love to her right here, and would prefer to return to their room to take up that endeavour, but this was fine, indeed. She liked to be playful with him, and so, suddenly as she had offered herself, she pushed him away.

He was panting now, and when Maria looked between his legs, she smirked and was pleased to find he had become rather aroused. But she ignored his hopeful face and instead put her clothing back on properly, stood, and said, "Wait five minutes, and then come find me."

Swallowing, Georg nodded, sure those minutes would be the longest of his life. He watched her as she walked in the direction of the villa, her hips swaying purposefully. He was almost sure he knew what she was up to, now. Well, it wasn't as if he didn't have a few tricks of his own, and would not be outsmarted by this vixen he called his wife.

When the time had elapsed accordingly, Georg set off for the house, but instead of going up the stairs to where he was sure to find Maria, he went first to the wine cellar and chose a bottle of champagne for them to share, and fetched wine glasses from the kitchen as well. He nodded to Frau Schmidt, who was there with the little ones, saying, "Just leave cold cuts out and Maria and I will eat later."

"Of course, sir," the old woman said, smiling to herself. It seemed to her that he had a spring in his step and something of a mischievous glint in his eye, and she would not be the one to interrupt it.

When Georg came to the master bedroom, he found himself quite alone, but instead of searching for his wife, he poured himself a glass of champagne, and one for Maria also. Looking out the window next to their bed, he called out, "Darling, I'm waiting."

"Oh, good," came a voice behind him, and when Georg turned, he saw Maria exiting their bathroom, dressed in her long, silk robe, ruffling her hair with her fingers. She smiled and kissed him ardently, taking the glass of champagne with a throaty, "Thank you, my love. How thoughtful."

Eyebrows knitting together, Georg turned to pour the second glass for himself, trying to work out this interesting turn of events. Perhaps to have expected her to be sprawled naked on their bed and waiting for him was a bit much, but—

Having turned back to speak to Maria, his jaw all but dropped when he found her doing just that, with a wicked sparkle in her eyes and a grin on her face that said she was extremely pleased with herself. His voice almost a growl, Georg asked, "What exactly is your objective, Baroness?"

"Ah, excellent question, love," she purred. "It's quite simple, really. You see, two can play this game, a game," she trailed, voice growing quieter, "where two inevitably become one."

"And how, precisely, does one play this game?" Georg asked, aware that the longer he stared at his wife's body and listened to her speak, the more the blood rushed through his body, particularly to his nether regions.

"Well, it's a bit like the idea of 'see, but don't touch,'" Maria said, "And I like talk. We've talked a lot, today, just us two."

"I don't follow," Georg admitted, setting his glass down. "And wouldn't you like to undress me?"

"Mmm," she nodded, "but I like to watch you, sometimes. So, you can do it."

Positively aching for her touch, for her to do this for him and to be close again, he asked, "What do I have to do to convince you?"

She shook her head. "Not do, Georg."

"Ah, I see," he murmured, understanding her purpose. "I love you?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "You are much more romantic than that, and I know it, Captain von Trapp."

Sighing, Georg began to unbutton his shirt.

"Why?"

He looked up. "What?"

"Why do you want me to undress you?"

Meeting Maria's gaze, Georg said truthfully, "Because I love the things that your touch can do to me. I love what your touch says to me. Just when you grasp my hand and squeeze it is enough to remind me of how much I love you. It reminds me of why I love you—you're so warm and caring, Maria—never mind what you do to me when we make love."

She nodded, a smile on her lips. "Much better. Sappy, yet satisfactory." She got to her feet and came to him, pushing his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders and unbuckling his belt. But when she moved to unzip his pants, he stopped her. She looked up at him, question in her eyes.

Grinning, Georg explained, "It's your turn. You said two play this game."

"Indeed," Maria breathed. "What would you like to know?"

"Last night," Georg said quickly. "What on earth was that all about?"

Maria blushed slightly, asking, "The dream?" When he nodded, she complied, "I was dreaming about Paris, our honeymoon. Even after all these years… one of the most evocative things you have ever done to me was to tease me like you did that night—also the most frustrating," she added when she saw his rather pleased grin.

"It sounds to me… like you wouldn't mind a repeat," Georg said, voice low, as he allowed Maria to remove his remaining clothing.

"Only with a few changes, Georg," Maria said, glint in her eyes. "This time, I _will_ finish with you inside me. None of your cruel nonsense about taking things slow—not when I've already got a clear, clear picture of marital pleasures—"

"And how much you love them," he smirked.

"Yes," she nodded. "Precisely. Which is why… I start the fun today," she said, her hands reaching between her husband's legs to touch his member. "It's only fair," she stated.

"Only fair," Georg groaned, letting himself enjoy the sensation of his wife's deft hands touching him so intimately, so cleverly. She stopped her task only when it was clear he was close to orgasm, and pulled him to their bed, collapsing among the mess of sheets and occupied with kissing every inch of his face that her mouth could find.

She pushed him over so that he was on his back, and she straddling him, her mouth working over his neck, chest, torso, teasing his member with the warm wetness of her own sex as she shifted her body continually. But for all her talk about resenting his typical insistence to pace things properly, she certainly wasn't obliging to a quick round, and he probably should have known better than to think she would change up too much.

"I want you to touch me," she finally said, voice slightly hoarse and heavy with desire as she pressed her body against his once more, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, kissing her passionately as he rolled them both over, pleased to find Maria was arching into him, one of her legs wrapped around his torso. He sought the hollow of her neck, her collarbone, and her breasts. He fondled them, massaged them, and let his fingers dance across her midsection, which bore marks of having carried their children, yet was astonishingly flat. He supposed her insistence over never being idle for too long had a lot to do with it, and the horseback riding, and running around with children all day, and their lovemaking.

He moved further down her body, placing kisses on the insides of her thighs, prompting her to splay them ever more and give him access just where she was asking him to play; she was already writhing in complete pleasure as it was—what he was about to do would magnify it to a proportion that could very well reduce her to complete incoherence. Ah, but that was the very thing she'd been dreaming of, how he'd put her _so_ close to that point again and again, but would never allow it until she practically begged it of him; that thing she had asked him not to do again without the certain fulfillment of his body joined with hers. He could concede to her wishes now… or play for a while. He grinned.

Maria moaned loudly when his mouth descended on her sex, and the longer he went on, the more she realized he had no intention of doing as she had asked, and the longer he went on, the more she didn't care for being so caught up in what they were doing together, and how they could make each other feel… all this, whenever they wanted, really. She was practically climaxing for what felt like the thousandth time when he let up his torment again, only to finally, blissfully, come up to meet her and kiss her senseless before joining his body with hers. It made her recall with intense clarity so much of their lives together, every tender moment, every fight, every passionate resolution. She was so glad to be his, so glad he was hers, and so grateful that the love they had never faltered. It had been the best, most challenging fifteen years of her life, and she wouldn't have had it any other way.

They lay together later, fingers intertwined between them, and Georg asked, "Would you want to play your game again, Maria?"

"With you, my love, always," she whispered. Smiling, she added, "Even when you don't do a very good job of listening to me."

"You can't deny that you loved every moment."

"No… how could I? I'm with you, Georg. Only ever you."


	5. Author's Note

To my readers,

I thank you for sticking by me and reading _Harmony _faithfully. I have immensely enjoyed the journey this collection took me on, and now I'm afraid it's time to bid it farewell.

I started this project as a means of a very intimate character study, and as all things do, especially over time, my concept of Maria and Georg has evolved, changed, and most definitely strengthened. I hope the last two chapters in particular demonstrate that.

Perhaps a series of sexual situations is a strange way to go about discovering more of the characters, but between these two, who are so full of passion and love, I believe it to be among the more potent ways of unwinding such a complex attraction and relationship. It was not an easy thing for me to do by posting this series, and I'm sure you all can imagine why; any piece of writing is incredibly personal to a writer—to come to this level, you may as well strip everything I value and hold dear bare. So thank you all to those who maintained respect and enthusiasm, and to those who behaved otherwise… I haven't forgotten it.

I will be honest in saying that I became bored with the series; there is no reason for me to continue it now, even though it remains my highest grosser of traffic of any story I've posted here. For that, I am pleased and proud, and I truly hope I've done these beautiful characters justice. I'm in a place of understanding these characters where I'm confident that I could portray them in any number of situations; the rest of the obstacles in future writings remain mine and mine alone.

My many, many thanks to the incredible Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer, Ernest Lehman, and Robert Wise for giving me so much to work with, love, and enjoy. And of course, to my readers. Though I write for myself, you all are the ones who encourage me to keep going and become better.

As a side note, I am aware that I messed up my German royally in the final lines of the previous chapter, as I approached it with the mindset of an English speaker, instead of as a German speaker. There is no excuse for my sloppiness, but I beg leniency for German not being my native tongue, and I was extremely tired when I wrote it. It has been amended, and should now be reflected in _Reminiscent_. If it is still unsatisfactory, well… that's an argument for another time.

All my best—

Cass


End file.
